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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823935">When the Gods of Death Command</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theOestofOCs/pseuds/theOestofOCs'>theOestofOCs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Temporary Character Death, but know that in my heart Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer is a wholesome disaster triad, canon is a rough guideline we abandoned long ago, if you squint hard you can read any or all of these relationships platonically, with one (1) magical fugitive princess daughter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:34:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theOestofOCs/pseuds/theOestofOCs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, no, that’s your ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ voice,” Jaskier huffed. “Geralt, promise me you’re not doing something stupid.”</p><p>*</p><p>A monster hunt winds up going very, very badly for one Witcher and his patchwork family. </p><p>Geralt was, in fact, doing something stupid.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>496</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Do I know enough about canon to be writing this? No. Do I care? Also no.</p><p>My knowledge is, unfortunately, chiefly limited to the TV adaptation at this point (although I did a lot of googling backstories and lore before writing this, because why not). I love all of the characters but I am fed up with the fate stuff, given how much it interferes with the happy found-family/romantic bonds I want for them. As such, I’ve thrown most of it out the window.</p><p>To summarize: the Law of Surprise applies to Geralt and Ciri, at least insofar as he’s her Witcher Godfather, but none of this Geralt/Yennefer “We’re in love because I wished the djinn would make us so” crap. Also, Geralt and Jaskier have not fought, because I do not wish to deal with that today. If you like, just assume Geralt’s apologized for being stupid and everyone’s made up already. </p><p>Also, this was originally supposed to be fluffy. It...did not work out that way. I, uh. I apologize for that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m not getting paid enough for this,” Geralt muttered, brandishing his torch at the creeping black tendrils. </p><p>This was supposed to be a fairly routine job. One of the villages they’d been passing through had been having some trouble with an <em>o’lim ru’hi</em>, claiming it had already decimated a neighbouring town, and asked Geralt for his services. Problem was, they weren’t willing to let him or any of his companions stay in town while he took care of it. </p><p>Geralt had almost refused for that, Yennefer’s pointed glare be damned, but they needed the money. Jaskier’s barding brought in a fair amount of coin from the more generous taverns, but between them there were four bodies to keep fed and sheltered, and one of them was a growing child. </p><p>He didn’t like taking Jaskier and Ciri along on the more dangerous jobs, though. One wrong move with an <em>o’lim</em> and you could get your life-force sucked out through your skin. Even after they left the cursed village that hired him, Geralt had intended to leave the two humans safely tucked away in their camp while he and Yennefer tracked down the monster. </p><p>At the moment, though, that was proving rather difficult. The <em>o’lim</em> had found their camp first.</p><p>“Keep your torches high!” Geralt shouted to the others. “It’s a scavenger at heart, it’ll keep its distance as long as you’re a threat.” Physical weapons weren’t much use against <em>o’lim</em>, since they were something between a boneless liquid and a heavy kind of smoke. Heat and bright light could hurt it, though.</p><p>It was lucky they’d gotten a campfire started before the <em>o’lim</em> had shown up; made it easy to grab a couple of burning logs and thrust them into Jaskier and Ciri’s hands before they knew what was happening. Yennefer, of course, was doing a fine job taking care of herself, flame coating both hands as the grass around her withered and died. Geralt still kept an eye on her in the corner of his vision as he crouched defensively in front of Roach and the two humans. </p><p>Why was the <em>o’lim</em> still here, anyway? It was an entirely opportunistic hunter by nature, it shouldn’t be expending so much energy trying to get at a few small, troublesome prey creatures. And it kept making an awful noise—Geralt winced as it screamed again, startling Roach into rearing before Jaskier soothed her—like a thing in torment, and Geralt had never heard of <em>o’lim</em> making any kind of sound besides a low hum and the occasional rattle.</p><p>“What do we <em>do?”</em> Ciri screamed, stomping viciously on a tendril that strayed too close to her foot. Geralt swung his torch again in a wide arc, beating the creature back.</p><p>He grunted. “We kill it.” </p><p>“Yes, I meant <em>how</em>,” Ciri snapped back. </p><p>“Yen, can you—” Geralt started. </p><p>“Don’t you think I’d have done it already if I could?” Yennefer cut him off, tossing him an impatient look. “Unless you’re seeing something I’m not, this one doesn’t have a center!”</p><p>She was right; this <em>o’lim</em> was all strands of darkness, and no nexus. If they were going to kill it, they needed to find its core, but—it should be there. Even in the largest <em>o’lim,</em> the tendrils only extended about a dozen feet from their epicenter.</p><p>Something was wrong.</p><p>“Now!” A strange voice shouted from somewhere out of sight. The <em>o’lim</em> withdrew suddenly, drawing back to an arm’s length from the travellers and flattening its tendrils until they formed a solid dome. Geralt lunged, jabbing his torch into the wall of monster, and it gave another hissing scream but didn’t withdraw. It had become unnaturally solid for an <em>o’lim,</em> too thick to push through. </p><p>“This isn’t right,” he growled to the others.</p><p>“Yes, I think we got that,” Yennefer snapped back. She’d drawn closer to the humans, eyes flickering warily around. Geralt grunted, <em>fair enough,</em> and joined her to guard their other flank.</p><p>It didn’t do much good.</p><p>A blinding blue light shot through from outside the monster-bubble, branching like lightning and seeming to come from all directions at once. Roach was hit immediately, crumpling to the ground. Geralt ducked and twisted wildly to keep in front of his humans. He blocked the first five strikes that reached him but missed the sixth, and he felt himself go boneless.</p><p>Dimly, he heard Jaskier shout his name, and out of the corner of his darkening vision saw Yennefer jerk her head up in alarm. The last thing he was aware of was watching the blue light strike Yennefer from behind in her moment of distraction, and hearing the light sound of Ciri’s body as she hit the ground beside him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>“Geralt.”<p>Someone was hissing his name. He frowned to himself. He was so tired.</p><p>“Geralt, wake up!”</p><p>Why.</p><p>Muzzily, he forced his eyes open, struggling to remember where he’d fallen asleep. That was unusual. He didn’t generally get groggy, hadn’t since he became a Witcher. His surroundings didn’t help much.</p><p>A dark, decrepit room greeted him. The windows were boarded up and the heavy door didn’t have an inside handle; the room itself was empty save for a single post holding up the roof in the centre, and an unconscious Ciri and Jaskier. They were back-to-back, handcuffed together and chained to the pillar.</p><p>The <em>o’lim ru’hi.</em> The blue spell.</p><p>Tiredly, Geralt cursed.</p><p>“Yes, that about sums it up,” Yennefer whispered curtly from beside him. He glanced over.</p><p>She was, like him, chained up against the wall furthest from the door, but where Geralt was wrapped in too many chains to stand (or move), Yen only had four manacles latched around her ankles and shoulders. She, however, also had some kind of dark clamps encasing her arms from halfway down her biceps to the ends of her fingers, stopping her elbows from bending and hiding her forearms from view. Near her wrist a few sets of chain links were strung between the cuffs, binding her arms together in front of her.</p><p>“What are those?” Geralt muttered, nodding at the clamps.</p><p>Yennefer gave her best approximation of a shrug, scowling down at them. “I’ve never seen anything like them, but they’re dampening my magic. Just like the creature earlier.”</p><p>“The <em>o’lim</em> dampened your magic?” Yet another thing Geralt had never heard of them doing.</p><p>“Not at first,” she muttered. “But as soon as it turned into that…blister thing, I tried to make a portal to get us out of there. Nothing happened. It was like I was…” she hesitated. “Powerless.”</p><p>Geralt huffed. Now was probably when Jaskier would say something sweet and embarrass himself to make Yen feel better. Jaskier was still sleeping, though, and Geralt had no idea what romantic nonsense he should spout in Jaskier’s absence.</p><p>“That’s not good,” he settled on.</p><p>“Always a master of understatement, Geralt,” Yennefer said drily.</p><p>“Do you know who captured us?”</p><p>She shook her head. “I only woke up a few minutes before you.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p> </p><p>They lingered in silence after that, waiting for the other two to wake. That was one of the things Geralt loved about Yennefer; she understood silence, like him. It wasn’t something that needed to be filled.</p><p>Not that he minded Jaskier’s constant chattering. In fact, at the moment he found himself missing it.</p><p> </p><p>He hoped Roach was alright, and not being eaten by an <em>o’lim</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Just as he was starting to worry about the precise effect the spell had had on their humans, Jaskier stirred and groaned.</p><p>“What th—” he started loudly. </p><p>“Shh!” Yennefer hissed, glancing worriedly at the door as Jaskier blinked. </p><p>“Where are we?” Jaskier whispered, looking bleary.</p><p>“We aren’t sure,” Yen informed him. “See if you can wake Ciri. Quietly.”</p><p>At Geralt’s questioning glance, she clarified, “I don’t want to attract any attention if we can avoid it.”</p><p>“Doesn’t seem too likely we can, at this point,” he observed.</p><p>Yennefer dipped her head ruefully, looking uncomfortable. “Still.”</p><p>Geralt nodded, glancing at her arm-clamps. He thought he understood.</p><p>Jaskier, meanwhile, was flapping his hands to smack Ciri’s where the two were cuffed together at the wrists. “Ciri! Wake up, little princess!” he hummed. He seemed to be growing more alert, and more anxious, looking over at Geralt and Yennefer periodically.</p><p>Ciri started awake with a gasp. “Geralt!” she shouted, eyes wild and legs kicking ineffectually at the floor as she tried to stand.</p><p>“Here, Ciri,” Geralt called immediately, with an apologetic glance at Yennefer. “I’m fine, and so are Yennefer and Jaskier. We’re all here.”</p><p>She blinked, still looking confused and half-asleep, but at least she didn’t seem about to bring the building down on their heads.</p><p>“Where—” she started.</p><p>“We don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say we’re about to find out,” Yennefer answered brusquely. She paused, shaking her head slightly, and went on in a more gentle tone. “Whoever captured us likely has some power over the creature Geralt was hunting, but we don’t know how or what they want with us yet. They’ll probably come in and tell us more soon.”</p><p> </p><p>They didn’t. Ciri almost fell back asleep twice while they waited, only kept awake by Jaskier’s persistent murmuring. The bard was in the middle of telling her a story of a mouse caught in a trap—knowing Jaskier, Geralt suspected the mouse would escape, though he couldn’t fathom how; mousetraps tended to break their prey’s legs if they didn’t kill them instantly, so he wasn’t sure how this mouse was doing well enough to <em>sing</em>—when the sound of a heavy bolt sliding back silenced him, and the door finally creaked open. </p><p>Three men filed in, all strangers. They looked to be typical villagers from this part of Redania—a bit ragged around the edges, their pale skin sun-wrinkled and tanned, their clothes too simple for wealth. </p><p>Interesting. That meant their captors probably weren’t… well, any of the multitude of people who had an interest in snatching one or all of them. Those tended to rank among the rich and powerful elite.</p><p>Perhaps the village that had hired Geralt was more hostile than they’d thought.</p><p>“Well, well, well,” crooned the last man to walk in. He wore a thick chain with an ornate medallion around his neck, and by the way the other two took up a position guarding the door, Geralt assumed he was the one in command. “Our guests are finally awake. I do hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long, but you know how it is.” He waved a hand airily.</p><p>“Not really,” Ciri snapped, craning her neck to glare.</p><p>“Hush, Fiona,” Geralt rumbled. Better not to chance aggravating them, not before they knew what they wanted.</p><p>“Fiona, is it?” the leader mused. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “Awfully young to be wandering around a forest like this one, aren’t you? Too young, perhaps.” He addressed Geralt and Yennefer. “We would hate to harm one so young. Children should be protected, don’t you think?” He sighed. “But sometimes it can’t be helped.”</p><p>“What do you want?” Yennefer spat. </p><p>He studied her for a moment. His hair was yellow, streaked with grey, but his eyes were very dark. </p><p>“I am Ziemowit,” he announced, turning away, “mayor of Huthwaite and protector of my people. You, Witcher, unless I’m much mistaken, have come with intent to harm our <em>o’lim ru’hi,</em> and I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”</p><p>Geralt narrowed his eyes. “This is the village thought to be destroyed by the creature. Your neighbours are mourning you,” he accused.</p><p>“Yes, well,” Ziemowit sniffed. “Rumours of our deaths were greatly exaggerated, and all that. It serves our purposes to be thought extinct.”</p><p>“Why are you protecting the <em>o’lim</em>?” Jaskier piped up. The mayor looked at him, and he shrugged. “I didn’t think they were the sort of creature us humans could really coexist with. More, mm, food! And then the humans are dead, type of relationship.” He spread his hands, or tried to, and Ciri yanked them backwards with a huff. “I might be wrong! Maybe I’m wrong. Just thought a bit of clarification might do us all some good.”</p><p>Ziemowit scowled at him. “You talk too much.” Ignoring Jaskier’s murmured “I’ve been told that before, actually,” he went on, “We have an…arrangement, shall we say, with our local <em>o’lim ru’hi.</em> It does us no harm. In fact, it provides us with quite a few useful services.”</p><p>Geralt raised an eyebrow. There was a saying about things too good to be true.</p><p>“Ah, well, this is just a case of the wrong information, then!” Jaskier prattled with forced cheerfulness. “A misunderstanding, but it’s all cleared up now, so we’ll be on our way without interfering any more into your…er, creative arrangements. That sound good to everyone?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” Ziemowit interjected. He had the gall to look apologetic. “Your arrival is actually a marvellous stroke of luck for us, and unfortunately, we cannot afford to pass it up. You see, in order to make our arrangement thoroughly complete, we need to perform one more ritual.” His eyes seemed darker than they were before; Geralt would call it a trick of the light, but there were no windows and the door was shut. “A life, freely given,” he pronounced, “will bind the <em>o’lim ru’hi</em> to us for the span of the giver’s natural lifetime. And to have a witcher, or, better yet, a sorceress be that sacrifice?” He shook his head. </p><p>Geralt tilted his head very slightly towards Yennefer. Without moving his lips, he breathed, “Is that possible?”</p><p>“In theory?” Yennefer murmured. “Yes. But the price of performing such magic…” She shook her head. Aloud, she addressed the mayor, “And what, pray tell, makes you think either of us would ever give you our lives willingly?”</p><p>Ziemowit twisted his mouth wryly. “I doubt either of you would, of course. Not without some convincing.” He signaled to one of the men who stood by the door, and he promptly left the building, only to return a moment later with a small tray full of unsavory instruments.</p><p>“Torture?” Geralt scoffed. It wasn’t as if he and Yen hadn’t both grown up with worse.</p><p>“Torture,” Ziemowit agreed ruefully. He stood the tray up in front of Geralt and Yennefer, just far enough away that they wouldn’t have been able to reach it by kicking if their legs weren’t secured to the wall. Geralt noticed a hook affixed to the ceiling above Ziemowit, just the right height to string a body up by the wrists.</p><p>Ziemowit turned back to his men. “Sturla, you have the keys and the spare handcuffs?”</p><p>Sturla nodded, producing both.</p><p>“Good,” Ziemowit said. “Let’s start with the bard, I don’t want to torture a child if we can avoid it.”</p><p> </p><p>The bard.</p><p> </p><p>“What,” Geralt said.</p><p> </p><p>As Sturla reached around Jaskier, undoing the chains that held him to the pillar, Ciri started screaming. Just ordinary screams, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long. Geralt should tell her to stop, before she killed them all. </p><p>“And, you know what, put the child to sleep, she doesn’t need to see this either,” Ziemowit added before he could. The other guard stepped forward and held out a hand, into which black smoke pooled and formed an unfamiliar sigil. He flicked his fingers, and the sigil flew forward, sparkling blue and striking Ciri silent and still. </p><p>“No, no, no,” Yennefer was chanting quietly beside him.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Geralt demanded as Sturla yanked Jaskier upright, despite his whining about poor blood circulation. </p><p>Ziemowit raised a brow. “I would have thought it was obvious, Witcher. I’m not a fool, I don’t expect to be able to torture either of you into submission, at least not directly. But I’ve found that making people watch others be tortured is often just as good, if not better. If you care for this bard, you’ll accede to my demands rather than watch him break, yes?”</p><p>Geralt clenched his jaw, staring at Jaskier. Jaskier was shaking his head, eyes flicking between Geralt and Yennefer, warning them silently. <em>Don’t do it</em>.</p><p>Ziemowit was clever.</p><p>When the silence stretched on, Ziemowit sighed. “Very well, then, we’ll see how this affects you. If it doesn’t work, I suppose we’ll have to try the child next, though I can’t say the prospect appeals to me much.”</p><p>“Oh, and this does?” Yennefer hissed.</p><p>“Hardly, milady,” he replied mildly. “But sometimes needs must.”</p><p> </p><p>They were barely five minutes in when Geralt’s silent straining managed to snap one of his chains loose. Ziemowit called a halt and ordered his lackey to secure him, and Geralt had a brief, wild moment of hope where he thought someone would come close enough for him to get out. Instead the guard summoned another dark sigil, and Geralt braced himself. </p><p>This one was silver; when it hit, Geralt felt his body go limp, though his consciousness seemed unaffected. He was held upright by the chains, eyes staring out in front of him, but—he focused, and failed—he couldn’t make his fingers so much as twitch. </p><p>Paralysis spell. Clever again.</p><p>Geralt couldn’t even blink while Jaskier screamed.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, finally, after hours that felt longer than some of the years Geralt had lived through, they stopped. </p><p>“Unhook him from the ceiling and just lock his cuffs to the child’s chain-links,” Ziemowit instructed carelessly. “I doubt he’ll be doing much moving around tonight.”</p><p>The guards obeyed promptly, and Jaskier groaned as he hit the floor. He was covered in blood and bruises, his fine shirt (“too fine to be gracing the forest with,” Yennefer had teased before they left that morning; “well, a bard must always look his best,” Jaskier had returned) torn to shreds. From what little Geralt could see of her, Yennefer’s face hadn’t changed at all since they’d made the first cut—she had carved herself back into stone. </p><p>Geralt understood. </p><p>He couldn’t do likewise. </p><p>“We’ll be back at first light,” Ziemowit informed them. “I’ll decide then if we continue with the bard or move on to the child. That is, unless you reconsider my request.”</p><p> </p><p>Once they left, he heard Yen and Jaskier whispering a little, but it sounded like Jaskier just wanted to sleep. </p><p>“All right,” Yennefer said softly. “All right. Sleep, Dandelion.”</p><p>Geralt still couldn’t close his eyes.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div>The door banged open, and Geralt jerked awake.<p>He wasn’t sure when the paralysis had finally worn off—he thought he might’ve fallen asleep still frozen—but evidently the spell had run its course. </p><p>Good.  </p><p>“I do hope you had a restful sleep,” Ziemowit said cheerfully. “Now, I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit, trying to decide between the bard and the child for today’s session…”</p><p>“Wait,” Geralt rasped.</p><p>Ziemowit turned to him, eyebrows raised. Yennefer did the same. Geralt hesitated, eyes sweeping his…people. Ciri had her legs tucked up against the chains across her stomach, knees hiding her chin from view and eyes wide with fear. Yennefer, he thought, knew what he was doing, but was willing him to change his mind before she had to intervene. Jaskier—Jaskier could only open one eye, and he looked too dazed to be processing much. </p><p>He wouldn’t survive another day like the one before.</p><p>And Geralt could not let Ziemowit touch Ciri.</p><p>He returned his gaze to the mayor. “If,” he began slowly, “and <em>only</em> if you release Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier the bard, and Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon before the next sunset. And if you do them no further harm of any kind. Then I will freely give my life for your ritual.”</p><p>“Geralt!” Ciri shouted. The fear in her face had given way to anger. “Don’t you dare!” </p><p>Yennefer stayed silent, but she was glaring fiercely. Jaskier still looked more confused than conscious.</p><p>“Truly?” Ziemowit said, looking surprised. “I thought it would be much harder to pry such a promise out of you. And how intriguing, to learn we have the princess of Cintra in our company. Very well, I accept your terms.”</p><p>“Swear it,” Geralt growled.</p><p>Ziemowit sighed, but summoned up a black sigil in his hand. As he recited Geralt’s conditions word-for-word, Yennefer whispered,</p><p>“If you do this, I will never forgive you.”</p><p>“Is that sigil binding?” Geralt asked her in return. She stared at him silently.</p><p>“…I do so swear,” Ziemowit finished. The sigil glowed red and vanished.</p><p>“Is it binding,” he hissed.</p><p>“Yes,” Yennefer burst out, “but damn you if you dare walk out that door!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt told her. He looked at Ziemowit. “Harm includes disclosing Princess Cirilla’s location or identity.”</p><p>Ziemowit nodded impatiently, gesturing at the guards, who hastened forward to undo Geralt’s chains. “Yes, yes, I quite understand. Now, on your part, please know that if you betray your word, I will kill your bard immediately and begin torturing the princess.”</p><p>Geralt nodded. He’d expected no less. He stood still as the chains fell, one by one, from his arms and torso. Once enough of them had been removed, the guards hastily bound his arms behind his back. As if that could stop him, if he really wanted to fight.</p><p>He let them do it.</p><p>As he stepped forward, Jaskier seemed to wake up a bit more. “Geralt?” he queried. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“It’ll be alright,” he told him. </p><p>Jaskier blinked his good eye, and started struggling to sit up. “No, no, that’s your ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ voice. Geralt, promise me you’re not doing something stupid.”</p><p>Ziemowit took Geralt by the arm and tugged him to the door. Geralt let him, but paused in the doorway.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said again, without looking back.</p><p>He followed Ziemowit into the sunlight.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[insert me grinning, sweating nervously and doing jazz hands]</p><p>stay tuned for part two!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Yennefer,” Jaskier rasped. Her face had that awful blank look, the one that promised hellfire, but it softened just slightly when she looked at him.</p><p>“Wait here,” she said.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier didn’t like the sound of that at <em>all.</em></p><p>“I’m sorry”? What in Melitele’s name was <em>that</em> supposed to mean?</p><p>Sitting up was harder than it should be, given that literally everything hurt, but he managed. “Yen, what’s Geralt doing? What’s his grand plan?” He gave a nervous chuckle.</p><p>Yennefer wasn’t laughing. She looked cold, and furious. “He’s sacrificing himself,” she said curtly.</p><p>Jaskier stared at her with his good eye. “No, he’s not.”</p><p>Ciri let out a sob behind him.</p><p>“He’s not, though,” Jaskier went on. “He wouldn’t dare. He knows you’d kill him if he died.”</p><p>“Apparently, that isn’t enough to stop him,” Yennefer muttered.</p><p>“…Right.” Jaskier snapped out of his incredulity. No time for that. “Ciri. Do you still have any hairpins?”</p><p>They couldn’t—Jaskier couldn’t let this happen. He was only restrained by a pair of handcuffs on his wrists that were attached to Ciri’s chains. If he could pick that lock, he could… <em>go after Geralt,</em> he thought. It took a moment before he realized how absolutely awful that plan was. He held his breath, carefully lowering his arms from where he’d been trying to scratch his head. No, he could barely move, let alone fight hordes of armed men and their eldritch abomination-friend.</p><p>He could free Yennefer, though?</p><p>Ciri managed to free a pin from her tangled hair, and held it out to Jaskier. “Thank you, love,” he smiled. </p><p>“Are you okay, Jaskier?” she whispered.</p><p>Ouch. He must look worse than he thought.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “My chief concern at the moment is stopping our idiot witcher from getting himself killed.”</p><p>He dropped the hairpin three times before managing to slot it into the lock. It was a lucky thing their hosts had cuffed his hands in front of him, rather than behind; he would have had twice as hard a time trying to do this blind. Also, if they’d bound his hands behind his back, he’d definitely have dislocated his shoulders yesterday.</p><p>…Although he was pretty sure that had happened anyway. To at least the right one.</p><p>His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.</p><p>“Hurry up,” Yennefer whispered after a few minutes.</p><p>Hurry up, she said. As if Jaskier wasn’t working as quickly as he could.</p><p>“I’m trying,” he gritted.</p><p>“Should I try using magic?” Ciri suggested after another minute had passed.</p><p>Yennefer shook her head. “You’d just bring the roof down on us if you succeeded, and we’d be dead as well as Geralt.”</p><p>“It was a good thought, Ciri,” Jaskier offered distractedly. He’d almost—there! </p><p>With a click, the cuffs came undone, and Jaskier scrambled over to Yennefer. He was proud of himself, he only whimpered a little as he crossed the room.</p><p>Given the option, he thought, he’d really prefer never to be tortured again. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice Geralt’s life for it or anything, of course. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.</p><p>“You’re crying,” Yennefer told him, softly enough that Ciri wouldn’t hear. </p><p>Damn. He’d been doing so well.</p><p>“Never mind that for now,” he replied briskly, and started looking for the lock on Yen’s arm-clamp things. They had more important matters to worry about. Later, he’d wangle <em>all</em> the sympathy and coddling from them, just as soon as Geralt was—</p><p>From outside, an agonized cry rang out. </p><p>No.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>“Geralt!” he shouted, stumbling towards the door. He fell before he made it halfway there.</p><p>No, it was someone else. It wasn’t Geralt. Of course it wasn’t. This was his plan, he would convince the bastards to let him go and then he’d kill them all. </p><p>Except Jaskier knew Geralt’s voice. He’d recognized it the moment he heard it.</p><p>One cry, and then silence.</p><p> </p><p>Dimly, Jaskier was aware of Ciri sobbing behind him. The sobs seemed to echo, to resonate in the air until everything was vibrating with grief.</p><p>Maybe that was just Jaskier?</p><p>No, he realized as dust started to trickle down from the ceiling. That was definitely Ciri. Also, bad.</p><p>He couldn’t bring himself to care.</p><p>There was a clattering from where Yennefer stood, and Jaskier heard her hushing Ciri. The vibrations stopped. A pair of feet came to stand beside Jaskier, and he looked up.</p><p>“Yennefer,” he rasped. Her face had that awful blank look, the one that promised hellfire, but it softened just slightly when she looked at him.</p><p>“Wait here,” she told him. Ha. </p><p>“No,” he insisted. “Please, Yen, I need to—”</p><p>“Fine,” she interrupted. Without fanfare, she popped his right shoulder back into place (he couldn’t help screaming then, and a brief look of despair crossed her face before the blankness returned) and she instructed Ciri, “Help him walk. I need both hands free for this.”</p><p>Ciri nodded, looking pale. </p><p>Yennefer threw the door open, startling a guard standing outside. It was one of the same men from earlier, Jaskier noted, in the instant before the guard died. </p><p>Yennefer was taking no prisoners.</p><p>She stalked forward, leading the way down the village street. Besides the (now late) guard, there wasn’t a person in sight, although Jaskier caught the sound of bolts sliding shut as they walked by a few houses. </p><p><em>Cowards,</em> he thought, with uncharacteristic bitterness.</p><p>Yennefer seemed to know where she was going, taking turns and choosing directions without hesitation. Leaning on Ciri a bit more heavily than he’d have liked, Jaskier hobbled after her. </p><p>In less time than it had taken Jaskier to wake up, they arrived at what looked like a makeshift temple. It was just an open stretch of paving stones, sheltered by a wooden roof propped up on four black pillars inscribed with a myriad of runes, but from the center of the roof there hung a round iron cage with black smoke inside it, and in the center of the paving stones was—</p><p>“Geralt!”</p><p>He lay, still as—as if he were sleeping—and Ziemowit stood over him, holding something in his hands. Ziemowit jerked to attention when he heard them coming, and opened his mouth, and oh, gods, what had he <em>done</em>? </p><p>Darkness came spewing from his lips, his nose, his eyes, darkness and a horrible shrieking sound. It barrelled towards them like a demon in flight, and Ciri screamed.</p><p>Even Jaskier knew there were lines in magic you shouldn’t cross.</p><p>Yennefer didn’t miss a step. She waved her hand, and the smoke dissolved. Ziemowit crumpled to the ground.</p><p>Jaskier hesistated at the temple’s threshold, but Ciri pulled him forward. Yennefer didn’t pause until she stood before Ziemowit, who still knelt where he’d fallen, coughing horribly.</p><p>Yennefer said nothing. Eventually, Ziemowit broke the silence. “I was…” he panted. “I was a god to these people. I found the <em>o’lim ru’hi,</em> I forced it to bend to my will. No one dared defy me. Those who gave me aid were allowed a portion of my power.” He looked up, and there was blood on his lips. “But all of that means nothing to a sorceress, I see. You hoard your power and your secrets, and kill those of us who make our own ways.” He gurgled out a laugh. “I would have thought one such as you would appreciate my genius. Instead you undo it all with a flick of your fingers.” </p><p>Ziemowit spat, black flakes mixing with blood on the temple floor. “You are a hypocrite, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”</p><p>Yennefer still stared down at him with empty eyes. “Perhaps I am.”</p><p>Then, viciously, she kicked Ziemowit aside, snatching from his shaking fingers the fist-sized black box he had been holding. She stared down at it for a moment, and to Jaskier’s shock, her face twisted into a mask of agonized grief. The expression was gone as soon as it appeared.</p><p>“Hold this,” she said simply, holding it out to Jaskier. He grabbed it with the hand that wasn’t gripping Ciri’s shoulder, and glanced at it. For all he could tell, it was just a box.</p><p>Yennefer turned back to where Geralt still lay motionless. In one fluid movement, she scooped him up, holding him very gently as she strode forward out of the temple.</p><p>The floor where he had been was stained with blood.</p><p> </p><p>They walked out of the village without fanfare. Nobody stepped out of doors, let alone tried to stop them. To all appearances, the town was as dead and empty as their neighbours believed it to be. </p><p>When they were a few streets away from the temple, Yennefer stopped and uttered, <em>“Fuascail.”</em></p><p>Behind them, there was a faint clanging sound, followed by a thin scream. Ziemowit, it sounded like. It tapered off quickly, and was replaced with a low, violently loud hum, like evil bees. </p><p>“What did you do?” Ciri breathed.</p><p>“I released the <em>o’lim,</em>” Yennefer answered, and started walking again. “Whatever it does to Ziemowit is less than he deserved.”</p><p>Overhead, a dark shadow swooped low before flying towards the forest and out of sight. </p><p>Yennefer never faltered.</p><p> </p><p>They walked for as long as Jaskier could bear, leaving the village far behind. They were deep in the forest, and Yennefer still showed no signs of flagging despite the two-hundred-or-so pound Witcher in her arms, when Jaskier stumbled over a root. He dropped Yennefer’s box trying to catch himself, to no avail. He hit the ground, and oh, that was an interesting sensation in his ribs; he had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting up in the immediate future.</p><p>“Yen, I’m sorry,” he groaned, trying to catch his breath, “I need to stop.”</p><p>She blinked, and—well, it wasn’t like she came out from her blank trance, but the ice in her eyes thawed a bit. Carefully, she lay Geralt down a few feet away, before hurrying over. Ciri hovered anxiously by his shoulder; she hadn’t spoken since Yennefer released the <em>o’lim.</em></p><p>“No,” he tried to wave her off, “I’ll be fine. See to Geralt.” Because he—he still hadn’t woken, and he doubtless needed her aid more than Jaskier.</p><p>She pressed her lips together and ignored him, reaching forward. He pulled away, glaring. “Don’t. I don’t want to sleep, not until Geralt wakes.”</p><p>“Yennefer?” Ciri wavered. “Is Geralt…?” </p><p>Yen avoided their eyes, and Ciri made a strangled sound, darting toward Geralt’s still form and pressing her fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse. </p><p>“No,” she sobbed. She lay her other hand over Geralt’s heart, then jerked away. It came back bloody. <em>“No.”</em></p><p>Jaskier couldn’t breathe.</p><p>He grabbed Yennefer’s wrist, heedless of the pain. “Yen, please, tell me—tell me he’ll wake up.”</p><p>Yennefer looked him in the face.</p><p>“He’ll wake up,” she lied.</p><p>Then she put her hand on his forehead and the world faded away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>heeeeeyyyy </p><p>Unless you want to avoid spoilers, please remember to check out the updated tags before you (understandably) eviscerate me</p><p>Also I know this is my second cliffhanger in a row, but fear not! I will not leave you (or this work) orphaned! The third and final chapter is pretty much fully written. It will be posted before the end of the week.</p><p>(Also. I'm very sorry)</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“How can you always stay so calm?” Ciri whispered.</p><p>Calm.</p><p>Calm was not the word Yennefer would have used to describe herself, just then.</p>
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    <p>Jaskier hadn’t believed her. Yennefer saw it in his face the moment before her healing spell took hold. Another thing to regret. She’d wanted to spare him that grief, at least for a while.</p><p>She lay him down carefully, taking an extra moment to tend his ribs and back; the former were cracked and the journey had aggravated them (she cursed herself for not thinking of that sooner), and the latter had started bleeding again from a few different places. Briefly, she hoped Ziemowit had suffered in his last moments.</p><p>She knew he had. Once she could detect it, it hadn’t taken much effort at all to undo the loophole he’d created to avoid magic’s prices; truly, she was surprised the backlash hadn’t killed him instantly.</p><p>It had been an ingenious trick, for an untrained magician. Ill-advised all the same.</p><p>“Ciri,” she said quietly. The child was still crying on Geralt’s body. </p><p>“No!” Ciri screamed when Yennefer reached for her. Ciri’s sobs were starting to gain the echo that had shaken their chains loose in the prison, though, and it was dangerous for her to be releasing so much magic. </p><p>“Ciri,” Yennefer said again. “Please come here.” She allowed a trace of emotion to colour her voice. Not enough to let loose the seething misery underneath. Enough, perhaps, to make Ciri listen. “Ciri, I <em>know,</em> but I need you to come here.”</p><p>Ciri stayed by Geralt for a moment longer, then turned and flung herself at Yennefer. Yennefer caught her, folding to the ground so they could sit together. Ciri’s weeping was quickly growing uncontrollable, but at least they were a child’s tears now, rather than a Source’s. The ordinary cries of a broken heart.</p><p>Yennefer held her. </p><p>“I know, child,” she murmured into her hair. </p><p>“He’s not – allowed,” Ciri sobbed. “It isn’t – fair. Not – Geralt – too. Not Geralt.” Her hand, still wet with Geralt’s blood, twisted the fabric of Yennefer’s sleeve. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Yennefer told her helplessly. </p><p> </p><p>After a while, Ciri’s sobs gave way to hiccuping and silence. Finally, she looked up at Yen through bloodshot eyes. “How can you always stay so calm?” she whispered.</p><p>Calm.</p><p>Calm was not the word Yennefer would have used to describe herself, just then.</p><p>“I hope you never have to learn,” she told Ciri.</p><p>“Why?” Ciri pleaded. “I wish you’d teach me. I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want it.”</p><p>“Oh, child,” Yennefer sighed. “Carving yourself into stone is…a skill you learn, not one you teach. And no one can stop feeling, not without losing their soul. I’m sorry.” </p><p>It had taken far too much grief, borne alone in the dark, for her to learn to be perfectly blank. And she thought, in the end, it hurt more to be blank than to scream.</p><p>Ciri deserved to weep.</p><p>“Rest, Ciri,” she hummed. “Sleep numbs all things, for a time.”</p><p>Ciri nodded soggily into her shoulder. Gradually, her breathing slowed, hitching every so often but slipping steadily into the rhythm of slumber.</p><p>Once she was well and truly asleep, Yennefer disentangled herself and went looking for the box Jaskier had dropped when he’d collapsed. Thankfully, it was easily found, and when she touched it again it was practically glowing with the same energy she’d felt when she first snatched it up.</p><p>She told herself not to be relieved yet. There was no reason to think this would work.</p><p>First she needed to find a stream. </p><p>She tucked the box carefully into her bodice and heaved Geralt’s body back up. There was a brook not too far from where the others slept; she’d cast a quick water-scrying spell before setting out into the forest, and had hoped to reach it before they set up camp. It was only about a hundred yards away. </p><p>Yennefer still shouldn’t have pushed Jaskier so hard. She hadn’t been thinking of the bard’s injuries when she’d been walking—hadn’t been thinking of anything, really, except Geralt’s cooling body in her arms.</p><p>Enough. She reached the river and lowered Geralt so he lay faceup in the water. It was barely knee-deep, but it would do. </p><p>Gently, gently, she took the box back out and cupped it in her hands. For a moment, she let herself freeze—didn’t dare move, or breathe, or anything, except look. It wasn’t a very interesting box to the eye, it must be admitted; unengraved, unadorned except for the small latch holding it shut, and a dull black in colour, as if it were made of the <em>o’lim</em>’s congealed essence. Yennefer thought it probably was. </p><p>What she was interested in, though, were its contents. </p><p>“Have to open it sooner or later,” she told herself. If opening it broke the spell… then it had been too late the moment Geralt had walked out that door. She wouldn’t know until she did it.</p><p>She took one more breath, and opened the box.</p><p>Life greeted her, spilling over the brim to be caught by her waiting hands, and she accidentally let out a sob of relief.</p><p>The spell hadn’t broken. She could save him.</p><p>Composing herself, she turned back to Geralt’s body where it floated between her planted feet. This was powerful magic, more dangerous than even she would usually attempt, but she hoped the flowing water would help carry the consequences. Water was life, or close enough for most spells to accept it as payment.</p><p>They would probably need to check in on any villages downstream, though, and make sure they didn’t drink from it for a while. Geralt would be annoyed if she poisoned a township on his behalf.</p><p>Then again, she was pretty annoyed with him right now.</p><p>Carefully, she reached into the box with her left hand and cradled the heart that lay inside. Geralt’s heart, shimmering with his life-force. Ziemowit would have had to cast at least one more spell before his ritual was complete; in her hands Yennefer held the proof that Geralt’s life was not truly taken. Not yet. </p><p>Not if she had anything to say about it.</p><p>Yennefer did her best, tying together healing spells and words of reversal and making-whole and breathing life, writing every sigil she thought might help with her right hand as she cupped Geralt’s heart in her left. Finally, there was nothing more she could do to aid the process, no more spells to cast. She braced herself. As delicately as she could, she pushed Geralt’s heart back into his chest, willing his life to go with it. </p><p>The sigils glowed. The water ran dark. A pulse of magic shook the air, and another, and it was <em>angry,</em> but it obeyed. Geralt breathed.</p><p> </p><p>He breathed, and the sound filled the world. </p><p> </p><p>And then he breathed again, and it was just a breath. The sigils faded away and the magic settled. </p><p>Geralt opened his eyes.</p><p>“Yennefer?” he mumbled. He turned his head and sat up. “Why am I wet?”</p><p>Yennefer laughed, and realized she was crying. “You bastard,” she choked, and decked him in the face. </p><p>He fell back with a splash and came up spluttering and bewildered. “What—?”</p><p>She cut him off by kissing him, long and hard. “I told you I’d never forgive you,” she said when she pulled away.</p><p>Geralt furrowed his brow. “Does this mean you were lying?” </p><p>“No,” Yennefer huffed. “It means that I love you. It doesn’t mean I’m not furious.”</p><p>She sloshed away, making for the riverbank. “Get out of the water before you catch cold and die again,” she added, not looking back. </p><p>“Yen, wait,” Geralt called. The sound of him scrambling, tripping and splashing face-first into the water almost made her smile, despite everything. She pressed her lips together to stop it. She wasn’t done being angry yet.</p><p>“No, Geralt,” she said coolly, not slowing her pace. “We’re going back to camp so Ciri can see you first thing when she wakes.”</p><p>“Yennefer,” Geralt put a hand on her shoulder, and she shook it off. </p><p>“Don’t!” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how upset Ciri was? Do you—” her breath caught.</p><p>Geralt looked lost. “Yenna, I don’t know what happened. One moment I was with Ziemowit, and the next—”</p><p>“You <em>died,</em> Geralt,” Yennefer ground out. She still hadn’t turned to look at him, though they’d stopped walking. “You decided the best thing to do was sacrifice yourself, so Ziemowit cut out your heart, and Ciri and Jaskier both saw you lying dead on the ground. If he’d cast the spell a different way there would have been nothing I could’ve done to fix it. You were dead, and Ciri lost control of her magic twice and cried herself out on my shoulder, and Jaskier aggravated seven different injuries trying to escape, because you had to play the hero.”</p><p>Geralt looked stricken. He swallowed, but as she moved to continue to the campsite, he blurted, “I couldn’t let him keep hurting them.”</p><p>Yennefer whirled. “They were hurt <em>anyway</em> because of you,” she hissed. She knew that was unfair, knew it even as she said it, but she didn’t care. </p><p>He met her eyes and said steadily, “True. But if I hadn’t gone with Ziemowit, we’d still be trapped there, and he’d be killing Jaskier or torturing Ciri right now.”</p><p>Yennefer ran her hands through her hair, clutching the roots. He was right, she knew it, and who knows what Ciri’s magic would have done if she’d been tortured instead of just grieved, but—</p><p>“You weren’t the only one who felt helpless,” she told him. She couldn’t look him in the face. </p><p>After a moment, Geralt said, “Doesn’t sound to me like you were helpless.”</p><p><em>“I couldn’t stop him!”</em> Yennefer shouted. “A goddamn idiot would-be magician! He tortured Jaskier, threatened Ciri and murdered you, and I could do <em>nothing</em> against him!” </p><p>“I should’ve told you what I planned,” Geralt said slowly. He huffed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it at all. But you—you got them out of that town. Held Ciri when she was crying. Saved me.” He shrugged. “Probably healed Jaskier.”</p><p>“He’s in a recovering sleep now,” she muttered.</p><p>“None of that sounds helpless,” Geralt said.</p><p>Yennefer folded her arms. He was missing her point. If even one thing had gone differently…</p><p>Geralt sighed. He’d developed an irritating habit of reading her mind. Similar upbringings bred understanding, she supposed. “None of us can control every circumstance. Not even the most powerful witch,” he pointed out. “You acted, and protected Ciri and Jaskier, in spite of what happened. I think that’s as far from helpless as anyone could hope to be.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it better,” Yennefer said.</p><p>“I know,” Geralt answered. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Yennefer exhaled slowly. She felt her shoulders sag. “Don’t—” she broke off. “Don’t ever do anything like that again. Do you hear me, Geralt?”</p><p>Geralt nodded solemnly.</p><p>“Good,” she said, or tried to say, but no sound came out. Geralt reached out tentatively to envelop her in a hug, and she let him. She even managed to let a few tears escape into his chest. </p><p>Oh, gods, his chest. She hoped she didn’t have blood smeared all over her face.</p><p>Oh well. </p><p>A broken laugh slipped out. </p><p>She leaned into him, laying her ear over his heart, listening to it beat. </p><p>She was still furious. But at least Geralt was here, alive and breathing, for her to be furious with.</p><p> </p><p>Later, Ciri would wake up, and barrel into Geralt with a cry, clutching him like a lifeline; and she would rear back and punch him in the face, just where Yennefer had, and Yen would be proud. Geralt would apologize again, and promise again never to do anything so “colossally stupid,” as Ciri would say.</p><p>Later still, Jaskier would wake up. First he would only see Yennefer by his side, because Ciri would be showing Geralt how to braid grass blades into a whip, and he would make a very upsetting noise, eyes going to where Geralt’s body had been lying when Jaskier had fallen asleep. Geralt would drop his half-finished grass-whip and dash over, carefully taking Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier would finally let himself break down, with Yen on his right and Geralt on his left. </p><p>They would hold each other like that for a long time. Yennefer would only send a few glares Geralt’s way. Ciri would wedge herself into the nonexistent gap between Geralt and Jaskier, and as the sun set she would fall asleep there. Geralt would attempt to move, saying they should have a fire for warmth, but Yennefer would conjure one with a wave of her hand. The smoke would only sometimes blow into Geralt’s eyes with suspicious precision.</p><p>When they would make their way, slowly and carefully, to the next nearest town for shelter and medicine, they would find Roach in a wealthy man’s stables, recently purchased from a shady source (almost certainly one of Ziemowit’s men) and none the worse for wear. Geralt would retrieve her—with or without her new owner’s permission—and their little troop would officially be whole once more.</p><p>Eventually, perhaps, Yennefer would forgive Geralt. Even though she said she wouldn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, all would be well.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“When the gods of death commanded unto me my love must die, I told them, come again tomorrow; ’tis too late, the night is nigh…”</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eyyy! We made it!! </p><p>I hope you enjoyed, found the ending satisfying, do not hate me, etc etc. Toss a kudos to your writer if you did! (Consider even leaving her a comment, if you feel so inclined—kindly comments are pure serotonin, and goodness knows a writer needs more of that!)</p><p>Thanks for reading :)</p>
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